


tactical advantage

by iwritesometimes



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritesometimes/pseuds/iwritesometimes
Summary: pointless chirrut/baze shenanigans, pre-empire era.





	

Baze hit the floor hard, all the air in his body leaving him in a low groan. He lay there, defeated and in no great hurry to rise again, until Chirrut peered down at him, eyebrows arched up expectantly and mouth in its wry half-twist. He leaned heavily on his quarterstaff like a hunched old man, the very picture of frail innocence, like he hadn't just laid out a man four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier and made it look easy.

"Best five out of seven?" he said with a hopeful note in his voice. Baze groaned again and went limp on the floor.

"No more," he grunted, closing his eyes like a man resigned to his fate. There was no response for a long moment, and then the cool prod of the end of Chirrut's staff in his side had him edging open an eye. Chirrut's hand thrust out to help him up; Baze knew when he took it how much wiry strength would be behind that grip, in that deceptively fragile-looking arm. Chirrut was so unassuming looking; if anyone were ever to try ambushing him in the streets, there would be nothing left for them but prayers to the Force for luck. Baze _knew_ what the man was capable of, and he still ended up on his ass better than half the time. Something to be said for all those Jedi-like reflexes Chirrut was always going on about. "You've humiliated me enough for one day, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know that there are quite enough hours in the day for that," Chirrut replied easily, and his hand was warm when it closed around Baze's. Baze rose smoothly enough, though his tailbone would be feeling that last drop for some time. He took careful, stretching steps over to the bench at one side of the courtyard to grab his canteen, upend it over his wide-open mouth. In retrospect, he should have anticipated the sneaking top edge of Chirrut's staff bumping the bottom of his canteen, over-tipping it and spilling water all over Baze's face. By the time Baze blinked his eyes clear a second later, Chirrut had danced conveniently out of arm's reach and was poised on his toes watching Baze and grinning, staff clutched behind him like a kid trying to hide something he's stolen. Baze blinked at him again in damp fury, and then lobbed the empty canteen at (the space two inches to the left of) Chirrut's head. Chirrut laughed and bolted and Baze tore after him.

He was a fast motherfucker, was the problem. His laugh rang out against the yellowish masonry of the interior Temple courtyard, a bark of mirth that Baze both loved and found incredibly obnoxious. His quick feet, nearly silent in soft, split-toed boots, took him with exacting precision and not a single slip across the dusty courtyard and down an alleyway barely wide enough to walk straight through, into a warren of open-air storerooms in the central, oldest part of the Temple complex. Up a flight of rough-hewn, uneven stairs he went, sure-footed as a cat; Baze plowed after him, nearly falling over a table in the low, grimy amber light of the solar lamps sprouting from the walls like glowing fungi, all of them older than Baze and Chirrut combined. He couldn't help but huff a flabbergasted laugh as he tore up the stairs, much less silently and gracefully than his idiot companion.

"Damn your hair, Chirrut! You overgrown child!"

"What does that make you, then, Master Malbus?" came Chirrut's voice from above him. Suddenly a blindingly bright square of light burst open on the wall opposite Baze; he blinked, momentarily dazzled, then looked up to see Chirrut's feet disappearing through the open-flung roof hatch, sunlight pouring in at a late-afternoon angle. Baze scowled and, not bothering with the last few steps, flung himself up and forward, grabbing the lip of the opening and hauling himself up with more strength than grace. It was effective, anyway; Chirrut had paused a moment to consider his escape options, and though he was off again the moment he saw Baze's shaggy head poke up behind him, the hesitation was just the opening Baze had needed. He sprung after him with every bit of strength left in his legs and his twinging tailbone, catching Chirrut around the thighs and bringing them both crashing to the ground; Chirrut let out an undignified squawk as he went down, his quarterstaff clattering away over the rooftop.

For a moment they lay there in a heap, panting and stunned; then Baze raised his closed fist in a triumphant victory salute and he raised his head from where his face had been pressed into the backs of Chirrut's knees, grinning ferociously at the skinny monk.

"I win," he declared smugly. Chirrut looked unamused, which only made it funnier.

"You do not _win_ ," he said, struggling only weakly, which meant he had no real inclination to get away. So Baze hugged him tighter, wriggling his way up Chirrut's bony body while being careful not to let him go. "At most that's just your second minor victory today. And hardly your most dignified showing."

"Dignity's over-rated," Baze conceded, still grinning; Chirrut squirmed and thrashed his way around so he was at least lying on his back and could see Baze looming over him. Baze would treasure his consternated scowl for a good long time after this. "Winning, on the other hand..."

"You did not win!" Chirrut flailed an arm free, and Baze quickly reached out and snatched his slender, bony wrist, pinning that hand back down to the sun-warmed bricks below them. Chirrut's face was red from running and his hair was a fright of cowlicks; Baze would've given a good deal of money for a holo of that look, right now. Chirrut's breath caught in his chest.

"Admit it," Baze gloated, feeling incredibly self-satisfied, indeed. "Do the honorable thing, and admit you lost. After _running away_ , as if we were twelve years old, again."

"I'd have beaten you at twelve, too," Chirrut muttered, with bad grace.

"What do you mean, 'too'?" Baze said, and was about to crow a little bit more when suddenly the world spun around him; Chirrut moved faster than Baze could even see, and suddenly he was, for the _mumble_ -th time that day, knocked flat on his back, on the dusty ground, staring up into Jedha's leaden sky. For a change, however, this time Chirrut was sitting on top of him, and they were up on a roof. The serene smile, however, was the same.

"Fuck's sake," Baze grumbled, frustrated and amused at the same time. He went to push Chirrut off of him - his ass was bony on Baze's stomach, after all - and Chirrut caught both his hands and pushed them to the stone, not gently; the rough sandy texture bit into Baze's skin, and Chirrut leaned over him, looking down at him with a strange expression, something between triumphant and wary. Baze was only then aware of Chirrut's warm weight on him, the tightness of his grip, the nearness of his face to Baze's.

Chirrut glanced away from his face a moment, looking at his hands cuffed around Baze's wrists. He flexed his fingers there, testing, and hummed thoughtfully. "Well," he mused. "This is new."

It was, and Baze wasn't at all sure what to think of it. Oh, the hyper-awareness of Chirrut was hardly new; Baze hadn't ever been _un_ aware of Chirrut, that he knew of, since they'd first met. Nor was this the first time Chirrut had crowded into his space like this, demanding, _wanting_. They'd discovered the particular thrills of _those_ little games last year sometime, rarely indulged but always, always enjoyed. Chirrut kissed like a dying man, like someone who was used to having nice things disappear in front of him, who was hells-bent on taking what he wanted as quickly and graspingly as he could, before it was gone.

But this - trapping Baze down like this, cuffing his wrists, simulating control even if, in fact, Baze could break his hold in a moment - this was intriguing and different. He gave an experimental tug against Chirrut's hold and found Chirrut's hands more iron-hard than he would have imagined. For a moment, doubt flitted through his mind; perhaps he could _not_ break free so easily. His stomach fluttered with some dark, sinuous interest, and he watched Chirrut like a hawk, while Chirrut watched him just as closely.

"You," Chirrut murmured, leaning closer still, his breath warm, ghosting across Baze's mouth, "have not won. You lack conviction."

Baze took a deep breath, tipping his head back a little, jutting out his chin. He pressed his heels into the stone to roll his hips up in one smooth, quick arc, and then subsided again. But Chirrut's gasp gave him away, the darker stain of a flush on his cheeks that had nothing to do with running around rooftops like a ninny. "I see _you_ do not," Baze teased him, voice trapped in his throat, ragged around the edges.

Chirrut smirked, found out but shameless as always. "Never. There's no room for spinelessness in dealing with matters of the Force."

"Nor for matters of my cock," Baze growled at him, trying to arch his hips up again. Chirrut made a face and forcefully sat down hard on Baze's stomach, winding him and pinning his hips back down again.

"Must you be so crude?" Chirrut chided. He still hadn't let go of Baze's wrists, Baze couldn't help noticing. He thought perhaps he ought to feel more trapped than he did. With anyone but Chirrut, he felt certain he would have. As it was, Chirrut was subtly shifting his weight back, back, sliding lower down Baze's stomach, pressing his weight more maddeningly into the cradle of Baze's hips. Baze huffed out a breath, bumping his head backward against the brick, by way of sharpening his focus on something that was not Chirrut's skinny ass very _nearly_ where he most wanted it.

"Not _your_ cock, either," he added defiantly; Chirrut's dark eyes sparked with hunger, and he tightened his fingers painfully around Baze's wrists. Baze found himself ever more sure he could _not_ break his hold if he'd tried. Chirrut was, after all, so very much stronger than he looked - stronger than he should have been, Baze knew. Chirrut was helped along by a little something Baze could not hope to tap, had never been able to manipulate that well. It felt blasphemous, a bit to think of the Force as, on top of him, Chirrut was beginning to rock his hips a bit, restlessly, against the burgeoning heat of Baze's cock through their layers of clothes; he didn't seem aware he was doing it. Baze bit his own lip to stop himself from making a sound that would give new meaning to "undignified."

The Force, Baze felt confident assuming, would forgive them a bit of blasphemy here and there.

Chirrut's eyes had gone a little unfocused; they suddenly sharpened on Baze's, a scorching dagger of a look. Baze's breath caught. "There's nothing spineless about you either," Chirrut muttered, and now he _was_ rubbing against Baze on purpose, rhythmically rutting his hips back and forth. It was so good and so terrible at once, Baze's coarse clothes doing his tender skin no favors. It had to be worse for Chirrut; his rough-spun temple breeches were of even worse quality. Chirrut didn't really seem to notice, his eyes still locked on Baze's, almost disconcertingly intense. But "disconcertingly intense" was how Chirrut did _everything_ in his life. By now, Baze was used to it. He held Chirrut's eyes, even when Chirrut leaned down and touched their foreheads together, and they neither one could properly focus their eyes with their faces so close. Baze let out a shuddering sigh, and Chirrut hummed low, sounding pleased. "No," he said, as if coming to agreement with himself. "I misspoke earlier. Your... _convictions_ ," he stressed the word as he dragged the heat of his hardened cock right against Baze's, making Baze's back arch, "are as strong as ever."

The _nonsense_ he did talk. Baze couldn't stand this maddening tease anymore; he _yanked_ his arms free, Chirrut letting him go seemingly more out of surprise than intention, and caught his balance on the yellow stone either side of Baze's head as Baze tugged and fought at their clothes, growling through gritted teeth as he excavated his way to Chirrut's bare, hot skin. The monk gasped above him, thrust against him, and Baze frantically tore open the placket of his own trousers, till he could get both their cocks in one big, work-rough hand, still better than all that fabric, _good_ , because it was Chirrut, and he looked utterly lost with the feeling, above him. Baze watched his face, his every tiny expression - because that was all he showed, close-kept as Chirrut held his every emotion, never showing more than he could help. But Baze knew the flicker of his lashes, the way his eyes slitted nearly closed with the hot, overwhelming sensation of it - knew every tiny tell in his face, because he'd been seeing everything Chirrut's face was capable of since he was just a boy.

They moved clumsily but effectively together, and Baze watched him until he _couldn't_ , anymore; until the dizzying race to the finish made the sky spin in his eyes, and he had to squeeze them closed and press his nose and mouth against Chirrut's sweat-damp temple to muffle his soft, exhausted groan. He panted heavily, breath ruffling Chirrut's soft hair, as the monk grabbed painfully tight to Baze's shoulders, strong, spindly fingers digging in, and pressed his cock into Baze's fist twice more before he shuddered into stillness. They lay in a drugged, heavy collapse, panting together, for long minutes afterwards, until Chirrut began to shiver a little from the cold air as the sun slipped behind the clouds and the horizon. Baze then grunted, stirred them both from their near-doze, and Chirrut pushed himself unsteadily up, settled his weight back on Baze's thighs. Baze tidied them both up as well as he could, hiding away all their vulnerable skin from the wind, again, but the heat of their bodies together was still a burning memory on his palms, and as soon as they were tucked away again, Baze pushed himself up and hauled Chirrut in for a kiss. Chirrut went pliable against him, mouth going soft and open under Baze's hungry kisses; he framed Baze's face in his hands, fingers shoved into his wild mane of hair, while Baze squeezed him around his tiny middle, feeling bigger and stronger and in control again. The contrast in that to having Chirrut pin him down made the differences more stark in his mind. He found he liked that Chirrut could make him feel both.

Their kiss devolved inevitably into soft, lipping touches of their mouths, mostly just breathing together as they stole the last few moments of sunlight in their free day, Chirrut bumping his nose against Baze's, nuzzling in that strangely affectionate, tactile way he had, sometimes. Particularly after he'd just gotten off spectacularly, Baze had noticed. There were so many good reasons to pursue that outcome at their every opportunity, he thought.

"What do you say," Chirrut said finally, into the gathering dark. Around them, the temple spires were beginning to glow with warm, yellow lights, a comforting constellation of bright windows as familiar to Baze as the wry, curving twist of Chirrut's mouth. "To calling this a draw and starting with a clean slate, next time?"

Baze hummed low, pretending to consider it. "Only if it's understood," he gruffed, his voice all wrecked-sounding from good sex, "that you conceded to me in the end."

"If you call _that_ a concession," Chirrut said smartly, "I would hate to see what you consider a real, unconditional surrender."

Baze grinned a feral sort of grin, feeling a new rush of heat flash through him, making the cool night air in his lungs feel bitingly cold by comparison. "No," he said with certainty and enough suggestion in his voice to make Chirrut shiver again. "I think you'd like it very much."

**Author's Note:**

> poppin my ao3 cherry with an ode to the greatest romance of our time. this wasn't really intended as a proper fic, just a bit of nonsense on my tumblr, but in the spirit of being the change i want to see in the world, i figured i'd post it here too. this is set roughly 30ish BBY, so baze and chirrut are in their early twenties.
> 
> i should've clarified this to begin with, but chirrut is sighted in this story, based on [this reference to the Visual Guide](http://iwritesometimes.tumblr.com/post/154710566819/sputnikcentury-hauntedfalcon-luminousfinn) and my subsequent [headcanon post](http://iwritesometimes.tumblr.com/post/154714364129/okay-so-i-should-be-asleep-hours-ago-but-i-wanted), which will also be the basis for most of the other stuff i may write for these characters.


End file.
